MANDATORY meeting! 7pm! (dinner provided)
Ok everyone, settle down.
Settle down.
Ok.
Well. This is really great.
I see a lot of new faces, which is great.
Um.
I called this meeting though, because I’ve been getting a lot of questions recently.
A lot of the same questions, I should say.
So I wanted to clear up any confusion we may- you all- may have.
We’re all here because we love one thing: Throw-
Yeah, throwing knives, exactly.
But it’s not just that.
It’s the potential throwing knives have.
That.
That potential.
Because when you hold the knife that way, I mean, you tell me, can you NOT throw it?
No.
Exactly.
Of course not.
Potential.
And fear.
People fear throwing knives.
And people fear people who throw throwing knives.
Especially people who are good at throwing throwing knives.
And we’re all here to get better at throwing throwing knives, right?
Exactly.
I, but-
Ok. I don’t want to derail, but first I feel I need to reiterate a few things.
Guys.
Some of us are getting hurt. By each other.
Look at Ted over there.
Look.
Ted, show them your face.
For those of you who weren’t here last week, take a good look.
(sigh)
Guys that’s rule number one!
Do NOT throw throwing knives at other Throwing Knife Gang members.
Rule number one.
If we don’t honour that, I mean, what can I say?
We’re hardly a gang. That’s what.
What gangs do you know that hurt each other?
I know the Chain Gang doesn’t. You ever see their members with chain marks?
No.
They may have flame burns or tire welts or knife marks-
Right Steve, always modest.
Please, a short round of applause for Steve, who-
(Applause)
For you new guys out there, Steve was key in our last scheduled gang fight with the Chain Gang.
You’re an asset to the gang, we all know that. But a little modesty-
Anyway, you don’t see Chain Gang members with chain marks. That’s my point.
And please, don’t think for a second that I don’t appreciate the-
The enthusiasm our gang has.
The energy.
I really do.
I mean, when we bring it, it’s just-
I mean, frankly, we have more energy than any other gang I’ve seen, and-
We just want to feel like a team, don’t we?
Yeah.
Sure we do.
So let’s keep that in mind.
Especially you new guys.
Anyway, where was I..
(page flip)
(pause)
(page flip)
(pause)
(page de-flip)
So potential.
Like our throwing knives, we all have potential.
Every one of us.
And this gang.
This gang has potential.
Micky, I don’t want to single you out, but-
You know, it’s not just Micky.
I’ve seen a lot of you guys.
When you’re out, buying a hot dog, or you know, something else-
You pay for it.
Now, that’s not necessarily bad, but I don’t see a lot of intimidation.
I don’t even see a lot of, you know-
I guess-
I don’t know, marketing?
I guess that would be an ok word to use.
I don’t see us marketing our gang to local businesses.
You know?
I mean-
I guess I’m getting bogged down in details.
Here’s what I see, for us.
For our gang:
We start with small businesses, right?
We muscle them around a bit. Scare them.
Not too much.
But a little.
Then we protect them. From other gangs.
I mean, rival gangs, right?
Then we collect a bit of money from them.
For that protection.
We move up to bigger businesses.
Banks!
Right?
We can rob banks pretty soon.
I mean, by at least August, I would say.
If we play our cards right.
We rob a few banks, we work our way up the ladder.
Control this city a little at a time.
We can even expand to other cities and you know.
Throwing knives.
We work our way up to drugs.
Now look.
I know.
Ok.
I know.
No, I know.
(pause)
Hey.
Guys.
I didn’t start this gang to deal drugs.
I didn’t.
But that’s where the money is.
That’s where the power is.
That’s a good point Barney. Politics.
We work our way into politics too.
Everything.
You see?!
That’s thinking outside the box.
That’s thinking about potential.
Let’s keep thinking that way.
About potential.
Where can we expand?
Where can we grow?
We all have as much potential as a throwing knife.
And we’re great.
Throwing knives are great!
(Applause)
Yeah!
Ok!
So everyone grab a piece of pizza and let’s all talk and come up with ideas, ok?
Great!
Thank you!
(Applause)
How To Take A Shower In A College Apartment
1. Place a dry, cleanish towel immediately within reach of the shower.
2. Listen for neighbours to see if someone in another apartment is using up your shared hot water. If they are, skip to step 11. If not, continue to step 3.
3. Check to see how hot the hot water is by itself. If hot, move onto step 4. If lukewarm, move onto step 11. If cold, move onto step 14.
4. Turn on the cold water to a comfortable level. Step into the shower. Point the shower head slightly to one side of the shower. This will come into play during steps 5 and 6.
5. Be on constant alert for the sound of a toilet flushing. If you hear one, duck immediately to the side opposite the water stream, out of harm’s way. Wait for scalding water to subside. Do NOT readjust water. This will result in unnecessary freezing backlash when the temperature returns to normal.
6. Be on constant alert for the hot water to immediately give out for no reason whatsoever. When this happens, duck immediately to the side opposite the water stream, out of harm’s way. Wait for freezing water to subside. Do NOT readjust water. This will result in unnecessary scalding backlash when the temperature returns to normal.
7. Shampoo hair with affordable and/or borrowed shampoo. Remember how conditioner used to feel.
8. Soap up with affordable and/or borrowed soap. Curse the soap quietly, but vehemently, for your troubled skin. Rinse off.
9. Daydream about people/homework you intended to do last night, as well as upcoming projects/tests. Do you have a quiz today? Are you sure? Are you?
10. If you’ve daydreamed for too long, pause to remember whether you’ve completed steps 7 and 8. If you can’t remember, repeat them to be certain. Proceed to step 15.
11. You have less than three minutes of warm water. Make it count.
12. Turn on the hot water as low as possible. This will prolong what little remains. Do NOT daydream. Immediately proceed to “lucky” step 13.
13. Shampoo and soap yourself in one go, then rinse everything in one go. Do not condition. Do not shave. Skip to step 15.
14. Since you have class in fifteen minutes, skip the shower. If you have done this three or more times in a row, weigh that option against the option of being late. Your opinion should change slightly with each concurrent shower skip. If you reach six skips, take a cold shower and complain about it the rest of the day to your friends or anyone who complains about anything else. Skip to step 17.
15. Turn off the water and grab the towel from step 1.
16. Dry yourself off BEFORE you step out of the shower. This will prevent unsightly bruises and/or expensive medical bills.
17. Wrap your towel around your waist/head and scramble around your room to find cleanish clothes to wear.
18. Run to class. You are late.
Swish
Wiggle
She wiggles when she walks.
Just a little.
Her beautiful white dress hugs her hips enough to show just a tiny, perfect wiggle when she walks. The white dress is accented with hand-painted flowers, but I hardly notice.
Her sandals wrap tightly around her ankles, hinting at bondage and other things she might enjoy. Good calves, good thighs, good legs. Good god, good legs.
She has bracelets on her left wrist. White, to match her dress. A necklace of some kind. Silver.
Her wavy hair is pulled up, but not tightly. Casually. Beautifully.
She embodies casual. Beautiful. Personifies.
I can’t see her face. She’s walking away from me. I follow her discretely along the shops to our left. What a beautiful little wiggle. I’m a fan.
I hope she’ll turn right to go to her car, or left to enter a shop. She doesn’t.
So far, the only thing I can tell from her face is that she doesn’t wear those stupid huge sunglasses. I like that about her. She doesn’t hide her face. She doesn’t hide her wiggle. She’s upfront.
She stops walking. She starts turning around. Fuck. Look busy. Keep walking. Just going to my car, which is parked over here. Walk past her. Almost brush her skin. She’s throwing something away. I don’t see her face. Dammit.
Keep walking. She’s walking again. Behind me. Just go to a car somewhere and pretend to own it. She’s going to enter one of these strip mall shops.
She doesn’t.
We’re away from the shops now.
Plan B. walk straight across the lot to the liquor store. She’s just going to her car.
Walking. Walking.
She’s going to the liquor store.
Perfect. I can go to one part of the store and casually make my way to where she is, so I can see her face.
Enter the liquor store. No I don’t want to try the new cinnamon vodka. Thank you.
Make my way to the coolers in the back.
Did she enter the store?
She’s still behind me!?!
I’ll fix that.
Stop to look at the rum on the left of me. Ah yes. This one has a pirate on it. That one has a parrot. But what kind of a rum man am I?
She passes.
I look casually over at her. Delicious is honestly the only way to describe that wiggle now. I don’t know why, but it is.
I grab the bottle of Winking Pirate Rum and slowly walk in her direction.
She slows down.
She turns to her right.
She bends down to look at the bottles on the lowest shelf.
I stay where I am for a while.
This rum I’m pretending to read sure is interesting.
She must not see what she’s looking for.
She straightens back up.
She’s my height. Slender. Toned.
I grab a bottle of Laughing Parrot Rum.
I’m going to have a rum party.
Makes sense.
She continues walking. Wiggling with every beautiful step.
I can’t believe I still haven’t seen her face.
This is ridiculous.
She makes her way to the cooler.
Maybe I can see her reflection in the glass.
I look at her reflection.
She is looking me dead in the eyes.
Fuck.
Look away too quickly for details.
Walk to the left of her.
Oh, do they have that beer that I want?
The one that goes well with the rums I have?
Hm?
My neck is hot as I open a cold door and grab a random six-pack.
I look over casually at her.
She is looking me dead in the eyes.
I smile at her.
A too-big smile without showing any teeth.
The smile that makes my lips look like earthworms.
I look back at my spirits.
Yep, they’re still the ones I was holding a moment ago.
She is stunning.
Mystery solved.
Great.
I wasn’t prepared for that.
Usually things balance out.
Her eyes.
Piercing.
My stupid heart is trying to give me an anxiety attack.
I want to look back over, but I can’t.
I don’t think she grabbed anything out of the cooler.
I turn to walk to the front of the store.
She’s standing in front of me. Eyes piercing mine.
I can’t look away.
She walks up to me.
“Hi.”
“Hello.” I rearrange all the items i’m holding.
“Are you going to buy all of that?”
“Yeah?”
“Why?”
I pause for a minute, crinkling up my forehead.
“I’m having a.. rum party.”
It’s her turn to make a face.
“Rum party?”
“Yep.”
“What’s that?”
Why is she still talking to me?
“It’s just a party, except there’s a lot of rum.”
She raises her eyebrow.
“And no other liquor?”
“Exactly.”
“So why do you have beer?”
God.
I think I love her.
She’s doing exactly what I’d do if I caught someone following me.
Interrogation.
“I don’t.”
“You don’t have beer?”
“No.”
“Then what is that?”
“Oh this? This is a six-pack of rums.”
She laughs. She’s more beautiful when she laughs. My heart twitches.
I decide to press my luck.
“Would you like to come to my rum party? Everyone’s gonna be there. It’s a very popular party.”
“Who all is going to be there?”
“Patrick Stewart, Jennifer Lopez, George Washington.”
She laughs again. Her blue eyes are so wonderful. Her lips.
“It really brings people together, huh?”
“Yes Ma’am!”
“Even dead people?”
“Especially dead people.”
She smiles.
“That sounds like something I’d be up for.”
“If you’re too busy, I understand.”
“I’m not too busy.”
“I mean, it might not be your thing.”
“It sounds like my thing.”
“The rum might not even make it to the party.”
“That’s ok.”
“Also…”
She smiles with her whole face.
“Yes?”
“…no one else will probably show up. It might just be the two of us.”
“Hmm.”
“I know… See?”
She smirks at me.
“Why were you following me?”
“Probably the same reason you were following me.”
“Hmm.”
She bites her lip and makes mischievous eyes. Such a pretty blue. I wish I could kiss her. Hug her. Something.
I decide to be upfront.
“I like your wiggle.”
She smiles.
“I like yours too.”
It’s my turn to laugh.
“Do you like coffee?”
“No.”
“Me neither. Let’s go have coffee.”
“I’d love to.”
I put down the rumbottles and follow her out the door.
Such a beautiful girl.
Such a wonderful dress. Wiggle.
Perfect.
Facts About Alligators
Alligators travel in packs. Not many people know that. Scientists don’t know that. Zoologist scientists, even.
It’s true. Alligators travel in packs. They’re like wolves that way. Why do people say “lone wolf”? A wolf is part of a pack. A wolf is never alone. In my humble opinion, “lone wolf” is a stupid expression that only idiots use. People should say “lone crocodile”. Crocodiles travel alone. Crocodiles are NOT part of any pack. That’s the main difference between crocodiles and alligators.
That and pupil diameter.
Did you know that a pack of alligators can strip the meat off a cow in less time than it takes a person to go to college?
It’s true. They’re hungry beasts. Although calling them “beasts” isn’t rightly fair. They have a hierarchy, and in my book, any creature smart enough to recognize and enforce a hierarchy is pretty damn civilized.
They don’t use currency, though. That’s the main difference between alligators and humans. Humans exchange money for goods and services. And for sex, which should be a bit of both if you’re doin’ it right.
Instead of “money”, as is the street term for currency, alligators exchange death. When alligators want something they get it. If they want it from something that won’t give it up, they kill that something. If an alligator doesn’t get what it wants, that’s because it’s dead.
That or it’s just changed its mind. Alligators are very fickle, you see. That’s the main difference between alligators and Japanese fighting beetles. A Japanese fighting beetle picks one happiness to pursue, and continues pursuing that happiness to the grave. Sometimes a Japanese fighting beetle will want something easy, like the recognition of its peers. Once it has that, it dies, having lived a short and pleasant life, culminating in a profound public speech, or award of some kind, or something like that. Sometimes a Japanese fighting beetle will want something difficult like a single cranberry from a specific kind of scone that only one family-owned shop in London sells. When Japanese fighting beetles want something this specific and complicated, they can live for up to 400 years, with a few reported, but unverified, cases living even longer.
But i’m not here to talk about Japanese fighting beetles. I’m here to talk about Alligators.
Where was I?
Alligators… Alligators…
Alligators change their mind fairly frequently. The only time a person has survived an alligator attack is when the alligator changed its mind mid-fight. Or mid-murder I should say. An unarmed man stands a snowball’s chance in hell against a fully-grown bulligator.
However, that same unarmed man stands an ember’s chance in heaven against a fully-grown cowligator, which sounds about the same, but is slightly better.
The trick is to watch the eyes.
An alligator’s eyes will fixate on the object of their desire until that object is obtained.
If you see an alligator’s eyes stray from any part of your body to any other object, you’ll probably survive the confrontation, or attempted murder; again, whichever you prefer to call it.
If you look in an alligator’s eyes, and he’s lookin’ right back into yours, you’re in for it brother. Better convert to the right religion in the next few seconds and shoot off a prayer or two.
If you look in the alligator’s eyes and see a dull, void, expression, like that of one Mr. Jeffrey Dahmer, then you’re outta luck and I can’t help you. Even praying won’t help you. What you’re actually looking at is a crocodile. Crocodiles’ll kill you for no reason at all, because crocodiles are apathetic. They have no ulterior motivations.
That’s the main difference between alligators and crocodiles.
Alligators coordinate with each other with an almost machine-like efficiency, as they work together towards the same goal. Alligators and machines are almost exactly the same, in fact.
To locate a pack with similar interests, an alligator will sift through corkboard postings and social-networking sites, until it finds the right group. Then the pack meets up and exchanges information. Afterwards, they perform a series of team-building exercises to inspire trust and loyalty, while simultaneously judging the strengths and weaknesses of each other. The trouble with all this is that alligators are fickle, so they’re constantly changing teams and packs- I’ve already told you that alligators are fickle?
Well then.
I didn’t mean to waste your time. Sorry about that. I don’t consider myself a time-waster. I’m just a simple man who likes to teach people about alligators.
For instance, alligators are hydrophobic. “Hydrophobic” means the queen alligators have snakes where their hair should be. And if you look into the eyes of the alligator queen, you turn to… I don’t know, jelly or somethin’. The point is: don’t do it.
This is the main difference between alligators queens and regular queens. And you’d better watch out, because unless there’s someone making eye contact and NOT getting turned into jelly or somethin’, you’d better just assume ol’ snake-hair standin’ over in the corner by herself is really an alligator queen and NOT the queen of England. Because there’s no sure way to tell from the back, you understand.
Alligators prefer eating men, statistically. I’m not sure why, but I don’t argue with science, and I’ll never argue with an alligator. Cross my heart, I won’t.
Alligator meat tastes like lizard. That’s the main difference between alligators and eagles. Eagles taste like cowardice.
If an alligator finds out that you’ve been eating alligator (it can smell, you understand), his alligator pack will go into “hunt” mode. They’ll locate the other members of that alligator’s “weak” pack and murder them in cold-blood. Don’t mistake my words; alligator’s are all cold-blooded. What i’m meanin’ to say that the hunter alligators will wait until the “weak” alligators are enjoying a nice family dinner or a friendly game of poker. Then the hunter alligators burst into the room and brutally murder all the “weak” alligators in a hailstorm of bullets from their tommy guns. It’s an extremely bloody, loud, and violent event.
How do I know so much about alligators?
That’s an interesting story. I once heard an alligator say my name. Now I can’t die and I think about them all the time. So you tell me what that means.
The Devil’s Farewell: Chapter 1
She barged into my office like a bad hurricane and started talking.
Clearly that no-good doorman downstairs wasn’t doing his job.
I told the person I was on the phone with that I would have to call them back and hung up.
Then I asked this dame who she was and what she’d been saying.
She repeated, “I said, ‘are you Bulk Johnson, the private investigator?’”
“That depends, sweetheart,” I said coolly, “you still haven’t told me your name.” Then I lit a cigarette.
I could tell she was impressed with my cool demeanor and the fact that I was a smoker.
She asked me for a cigarette, so I told her “get your own pack, I ain’t carryin’ spares.”
She was even more impressed by my attitude now. She clearly thought I was Captain Cool.
I opened my bottom drawer, carefully bending over sideways so I wouldn’t get cigarette smoke in my eyes, which I hated. I took out my truth serum- a bootleg bottle of the booziest bourbon Kentucky’d ever birthed.
Slyly, I poured two drinks, implying that she would be drinking one of them.
She smirked at me and finally told me her name, “I’m Henrietta Moldrop. Heiress to the Moldrop fortune.”
I laughed a smokey laugh, being careful not to start coughing and hacking. This cigarette smoke was really starting to get on my nerves.
Then I picked up one of the bourbons, said “cheers,” and downed it like it was medicine and I was a sick baby with a taste for medicine.
She reached out for the other glass, but I snatched it up and guzzled it as quickly as possible, dribbling a lot onto my chin and shirt.
She politely put her hand back down from where it was hanging in the air. Then she closed her mouth, which was stuck open like a busted screen door.
She opened her mouth again as if to say something, but then I opened my mouth like I was going to say something, so she shut her mouth, but I also shut mine, because I’d only opened my mouth to trick her into shutting her mouth.
I was clearly winning this little game of cat and mouse.
“You lose, sweetheart,” I told her cunningly.
“What?” she asked. She clearly hadn’t heard me; probably because I’d had my hand over my mouth when I’d spoken.
“Nevermind, doll,” I cleverly countered.
My eyes were getting red and itchy from the smoke, and the cigarette was almost too short to touch without my fingers getting warm. I decided to kill two birds with one coffin nail.
I took my cigarette, being careful not to burn myself, spun it around, and forced it into her mouth.
I didn’t have to use much force, or any at all, because she considered it a thoughtful gesture and didn’t put up much of a fight. But if she HAD tried to refuse the cigarette, I had been planning to pull my gun on her.
Two birds with one suave stone.
Seduce the girl? Done.
Get rid of the cigarette? Check.
How about the other pair o’ birds?
Find out her name? Yep.
Find out her real name? Still workin’ on it. After all, I get paid by the hour. I don’t rush nothin’ for nobody who ain’t somebody worth rushin’ things for.
“Bulk,” she said, “Can I tell you something?”
“Lay it on me and cut it with a knife, baby,” I said, charmingly.
“I want to tell you the details about this case, to see if you’re interested,” she said.
A single tear rolled down her cheek, but I wasn’t fooled. If I’d kept smoking the cigarette that short, I’d have been crying too. I knew she was milking that smoke for all it was worth, trying to make me feel sorry for her.
It was about this time that the bourbon kicked in, like a mule who’d just woken up from a bad dream.
“It’s my sister Awda,” she sobbed, “she’s gone missing. You’re my last hope.”
I laughed. I mean, I really laughed. Not because she’d said anything funny, but because if this story was all true, I was going to be a rich man, and I was fantasizing about spitting on people less fortunate than me.
“I can find your sister for you, I’m just not sure that I want to. Ya get me?” I said, smartly.
“I don’t understand,” she whined.
“Let me spell it out for you, baby bird; by now she’s probably deader than a flattened cat,” I said, slurringly.
“Dead or alive, I just need to know what happened to her,” the big girl-baby boo-hoo’d.
I stood her up out of the chair, took her cigarette, MY cigarette that I had GIVEN to her, and threw the cigarette out an open window, hopefully onto that no-good doorman.
Then I grabbed her thin shoulders in my weather-beaten hands.
“There, there,” I said, shaking her vigorously.
Then I spun her around and pushed her towards the door, giving her caboose a little swat as she stumbled forward, almost tripping.
She regained her poise and turned back around.
“Don’t we have to talk about money?” she asked.
“Oh, you’ll pay my fee,” I threatened chivalrously, “or else…”
After saying “or else…” I drew my hand across my throat like it was a knife, cutting my throat open, and I made a noise with my mouth that sounded like a knife cutting a throat open.
She clearly got the message. Must be a good charades teammate, I thought to myself.
She left my office, and I noticed that there was a business card lying in the chair.
It had all her contact information on it, which I had mixed feelings about.
On the one hand, I was glad I wouldn’t have to look any of her info up, but on the other hand, she clearly didn’t think I was good at my job.
Actually, on even another hand, maybe this was her way of leaving me her number so I could call her for a hot date.
I decided that when I found the first bit of evidence about her dead sister, I’d phone her up, tell her the grim news, and work in a date proposal, smooth as fox-butter.
But for now, it was time to get to work.
Broken
She won’t switch on.
You’ve engaged her stimulus zones numerous times.
You’ve been sure to create an Atmosphere of Pleasure.
There is music playing that she likes to hear.
You’ve washed and cleaned your exterior surface and orifices.
She won’t switch on.
She says she’s switched on.
But her autopilot is engaged.
You can see she is not Actively Involved.
You tell her your desire for her to be Actively Involved.
She says that she is.
She lies that she is.
You tell her to stop lying.
She says she is not feeling it.
Feeling what?
You ask her what she is not feeling.
She says this.
What does she mean by this?
You ask her what she means by this.
She says she doesn’t know.
You don’t understand.
You tell her that you don’t understand.
You tell her about the music and the orifice cleaning.
She says she’s aware of your efforts.
You ask what else you can do to switch her on.
She looks at you.
You look at her.
You try to make your face look caring and genuine.
You look at her.
She looks at you.
She wants to take a break.
This is difficult for you to process.
You are unable to comprehend the logic behind this decision.
You tell her you are unable to comprehend the logic behind this decision.
She looks at you.
You inquire as to what is wrong.
You inquire as to what you did wrong.
You inquire as to what you can do better.
You inquire as to what you can do to fix whatever you did wrong.
She looks at you.
She does not love you any more.
She says she does not love you any more.
You don’t understand.
You tell her you don’t understand.
Your eye fluid level fills to maximum.
Your eyes will leak unless you order them to maintain current levels.
You order them to maintain current levels.
The fluid builds up, but remains in reserve.
The fluid in your eyes leaks internally and rusts your throat.
You speak with a rusty throat.
You tell her you’re sorry.
She looks at you.
You search for different phrases.
You search in the file labeled “persuasion.”
You tell her you’ll do whatever you can to fix yourself.
She says there is nothing you can do.
You do not understand.
There is always something you can do.
You fix things all the time.
You can fix this.
You just need to know what is broken.
You tell her you can fix this.
She says she does not want to fix this.
You search for different phrases.
You search in the file labeled “desperation.”
You use too much processing power.
You are unable to maintain your eye fluid levels.
Your eyes leak.
You tell her that you need her.
You tell her she is everything.
She gets up.
She switches off your Pleasure Music.
She turns the lights to maximum luminosity.
She acquires clothing.
You register a feeling of nudity.
You register a feeling of shame for your exterior.
You are processing too much at one time.
You are unable to determine the best course of action.
You need more time.
You tell her to give you more time.
She says she is finished talking.
You are not finished talking.
You tell her you are not finished talking.
She is 85% covered in external-venturing garments.
She will be ready to venture from interior to exterior in approximately 143 more seconds.
You activate your energy-enhancement reserves.
You accelerate all movements.
You get up.
You run to her.
You grab her and repeat your previous statement.
She looks at you.
There is a lack of emotions present.
You ask why there is a lack of emotional expression created through her face.
She says she feels nothing towards you.
You are angry.
Your anger is fueled by your energy-enhancements.
Your external vocalizations increase in volume.
You state that YOU FEEL NOTHING FOR HER.
You register an acceleration in blood flow.
Your face absorbs extra blood.
Your face shades to red.
You are processing too much.
You must simplify.
You determine it best to state facts.
You state that YOU HAVE TRIED TO MAKE HER HAPPY!
Your vocal projector is not able to handle the stress created by the increased volume level.
Your vocal projector crackles.
Your vocal projector breaks.
You state that YoU trIED To DO EVerYthiNG SHE EVer askED OF yOU!
You state that YOu FIXed yoURSelF WHEnevER she FOUND a FLAw IN yOU!
Her exterior preparedness level is at 100%.
You are out of time.
She tells you goodbye.
She exits from interior to exterior.
She is gone.
You were unable to switch her on.
She was unable to switch on.
She broke you.
You are broken.
47-Year Old Man Enjoys New Moon Over Dark Knight
New York, New York– You wouldn’t know if by looking at him, but Curtis Grimes is a Twilight fan. His 47-year old appearance and male-pattern baldness belie a man who enjoys a vampire fantasy series actively marketed towards “tweens”, the largest demographic of Twilight fans, consisting of youths aged 10-12.
“I heard New Moon was bigger than Dark Knight, so I had to check it out for myself, and I loved the experience,” Curtis states.
Mr. Grimes is of course referring to the famous box-office record-breaking sales of the Dark Knight on its opening night. “New Moon was like no experience I’ve ever had. In the Dark Knight, I was glued to the screen the entire time; in New Moon, I could NOT take my eyes off the theater audience! It redefined my definition of what a movie experience can be.”
Curtis recounts in detail how he arrived at the theater and was fascinated by the fellow crowd of moviegoers, notably the young women. “Just standing in the ticket line was great. All these girls all around me. They were on and off their cellphones constantly, or talking to other nearby girls; so completely distracted, they didn’t notice me staring at them for extremely long periods of time! I usually have to stare at underage girls from between other people on the subway, but this was right out in the open! It was very liberating.”
Curtis paints a vivid picture of the beginning of the movie: “When I actually got into the theater, I sat in the back, like I usually do, and started scanning the crowd. I don’t want to ruin the movie for those who haven’t seen it, but it was just so great. The surprise twist? There were NO men except for me! I was in a theater completely filled with young girls!”
Mr. Grimes then reaches into his trench-coat pockets and pulls out several locks of hair, tied neatly with different colored bows. “The absence of other men in the theater was great, but then the second twist in the movie hit: these girls were all completely engrossed in the movie. And I mean completely! I started moving through the crowd and sort of bumping up against them a little. The only time they noticed anything at all was when their cell phone rang, or when I blocked their view of the screen. That’s how I was able to gather my little collection here.”
With this memory, Curtis then giggles, smells a lock of hair deeply, and sighs.“It’s just the best movie ever. I can’t wait to see it again.”
George Washington’s Body Discovered!
Thought by many to be lost to the sands of time, archaeologists recently unearthed the body of the first president of the United States, George Washington. For hundreds of years, the disappearance and presumed death of the first president was shrouded in mystery, but now it appears that many shocking details are finally coming to light. Groundbreaking as this discovery is, it appears that for the scientific community, there are now more questions than answers.
Professor Keith Buhrningman, head of the American History department at Stanford University, has openly stated that he “will never think of ol’ Georgie boy the same again.” When pressed for actual details, prof. Buhrningman declined to comment further. However, a factual rumour overheard in the lab stated that the famous legend of the late president’s wooden teeth was grossly understated and perhaps even downplayed.
Doctor Thomas Wūdstock, Harvard drop-out, is soon to release a book, The Six Hundred Dollar Man, detailing the scientific community’s findings.
“I can’t give too much away, but I will say that from our early observations, it appears that his teeth weren’t the only wooden part of George Washington. Over two-thirds of Washington’s body was replaced with rich, polished wood! And not just bones; a few major organs were replaced with extremely intricate wooden cogs and machinery. Buy my book.”
When asked which organs were replaced, and what powered the wooden machinery, Wūdstock replied,”It’s easy to get swept up in all this “wooden man” hooplah, but people are forgetting the most important mystery of all: what kind of wood it is. My money is on mahogany. Keith and most other scientists have bet on oak, so if I’m right, more winnings for me! Oh, also, his body was riddled with bullet holes, which is important to historians, but not important to scientists. Buy my book.”
Secret reports passed between scientists contain Da Vinci-esque diagrams of what can only be described as a half-human, half-wooden cyborg.
This new information has sparked endless speculation, not only in the scientific community, but also in popular online chat communities or “chatmunities”.
Self-named “Doc” “Reginald” “McSteamery” runs the website Steampunkjunkie.com, where chat topics have ranged from the light-hearted “Washington costume ideas!” to the cryptic “Ye olde conspiracie? WTF?!”
Doc McSteamery states, “This is so totally awesome! Did you see the gears and machinery? Made of REAL WOOD?! God, that’s just so… I mean the craftsmanship… wow! If they find out he has brass parts too or was steam-powered, I’ll die. I’ll literally die. This is truly another great first for America; we’re the greatest great in the entire great!”
The implications this information has for America’s- and even maybe the world’s- history, is staggering. A wooden cyborg as first president might possibly mean taking a second glance at the rules regarding presidential elections and appointments. If this seems sure to raise political controversy, it won’t be the first time; this presidential secret stirred the controversy kettle, even in Washington’s time.
Alongside Washington’s body was found a partially-burned confession letter. In it, Aaron Burr writes that “two hired goons” coerced him into “murdering [his] only friend, Alexander Hamilton.” The letter then states the two goons, “Franklin and Adams”, told Burr that “Hamilton knew too much for his own big mouth” and that Burr “had to shut him up real bullet-like.” The confession goes on to say that Washington was intending to silence Hamilton himself, but that he ultimately “didn’t want to get his greasy wooden mitts dirty” in connection with the murder. It’s certainly difficult to envision America’s first president as a wooden cyborg president, but a wooden cyborg assassin president sounds even more fantastical. Is there any proof of George Washington as a killer, aside from the well-documented accounts of his battles?
A third item was found in Washington’s hidden tomb: A wooden gun held in his human right hand, next to several wooden bullets. The gun appears to have fit neatly inside the president’s hollow right thigh, which was entirely wooden, velvet-lined, and opened up specifically for gun-storage. The last item in the casket, a wooden pepper mill labeled “Whompin’ Washington’s pepper spray” was found resting in a holster in Washington’s leather belt. The gun and pepper spray combination has led top police experts to believe Washington may have served as a kind of judge, jury, and executionary robotic law enforcer.
“No doubt about it, Washington ran this country with a wooden fist,” says New York Chief of Police Randy Fish. Fish is not pleased with Buhrningman, Wūdstock or any of the other music festivals scientists.
“At first I thought those scientists were doing good work, but any first-year cop can tell you that only most of the holes in Washington’s body are bullet holes; the rest of ‘em are termites holes. From the angle of the bullet entry wounds, my forensics department has concluded that Washington was such a badass, he actually shot the termites out of himself from time to time.”
But what of the larger picture? Does this evidence of primitive technology mean there may now be cyborgs living among us constructed of stone, or bronze or even iron? Only time will tell. Until then, one thing is certain: we “soft-skins” can only hope they’re as wonderful and patriotic as our beloved wooden cyborg assassin president, who could apparently tell a lie.
Paratrooper Babies, Starring Bruce Willis and Samuel L Jackson
Ok, so in the opening scene, there’s a mom who’s holding the baby. I dunno someone really old and motherly like Sarah Jessica Parker.
We zoom in on the baby.
All of a sudden, holy shit, he injects a tiny syringe into his mom’s shoulder (the audience is like “what the hell? Babies don’t typically do that!”).
The mother says “I’m tired,” and the baby makes this smirk-face, because he injected her with knock-out juice.
She lies on the couch, and as soon as she’s out cold, he gets up and pulls a watch and high-tech goggles out of his diaper (audience is like “whaaaaa?”).
The baby puts the high-tech watch and goggles on (note: babies aren’t good at stuff like this, so we’ll have to CGI the babies, or have an animal trainer teach several baby-clones how to do things on cue or something).
He speaks into the watch, and holy krap, it’s Bruce Willis (the audience is like “this baby must be a badass Die Hard baby”) and he’s like “Squad 8, what’s your status?”
So squad 8 is like “Operation put mommies to sleep is complete.”
And Bruce Willis-baby is like “Then it’s go-time. Move, move, move!”
And there’s all this action as the Bruce-Willis baby CGI-runs (because babies don’t run the way Bruce Willis runs) through the house, and straps on all his high-tech gear (including a jetpack! Audiences LOVE jetpacks).
He heads out the back door, and the neighbour’s CGI dog is all like foam-mouth-city and he’s gonna bite Bruce Willis-baby, but Bruce Willis-baby pulls this HUUUUUGE steak out of his diaper (it was too big to be in there! Hahaha!) and throws it at the CGI dog.
The dog’s all happy (the dog needs to make a good happy smirk-face) and Bruce Willis-baby pulls his flight goggles down over his eyes as we zoom in to see how cool he is. Then BLAMMO-WHAMMO his jetpack blasts off and he’s flying into the sky (we should have a shot where his mouth is getting pulled back because of the wind while he’s flying so fast. People love that).
He flies into this secret satellite and it’s full of babies! (families will love this movie!)
The leader of the babies turns around and is like “it’s about time!” and it’s totally Samuel L Jackson-baby! (note: the faces should look like the actors. We can probably train babies to hold their faces certain ways, or just CGI over them)
And Bruce Willis baby is like “don’t hassle me” or something cool, and Samuel L Jackson-baby is like “enough! It’s time for the mission. The secret mission that we’ve been working on for 50 years” (audiences will be like “those babies can’t be 50 years old, can they? Is this a sci-fi movie? Because it rocks!”).
And so John Cleese-baby pulls up a badass holographic display of earth and the whitehouse and stuff, and he’s like “gentlemen, it’s time to destroy the aliens” (audiences will be like “this it TOTALLY a sci-fi movie! I knew it! AWESOME!!!).
And it turns out that all the adults are actually aliens! And it’s this whole mind-fuck conspiracy scam with aliens trying to take over the government for the past 50 years (note: the babies are still human babies. We don’t really have to explain the whole 50-year-old babies or how they figured this all out or anything).
So then Samuel L Jackson-baby is about to say “Lock and Load,” but Bruce Willis-Baby interrupts him and says “Yippee Ki-yay Paratrooper Babies” (note: this is his famous line from Die Hard, only altered to fit our movie. Audiences LOVE when he says this. Trust me!) and Samuel L Jackson-baby gives him this look like “I’m pissed that you interrupted me, but you’re still awesome for saying your catchphrase and go get ‘em tiger.” (we have to make sure all of this is conveyed in his look. Again, there’s a Russian animal trainer I know who’s really good and can probably train babies to look this way into the camera. You guys should have lunch and work out the details.)
Then all the babies load up into these ejector pods and launch all badass down to the planet.
But the alien-adults knew that they would be doing this, so they’re like “Fire!” and it’s totally an all-out war with the alien-adults and the human-babies with fire and explosions and plasma guns and rockets and lasers and robots and all like pew-pew-pew-Kabooooom!!!!
(this battle should last at least an hour and be really fucking awesome or ELSE!)
Then the battle is over and the smoke is all everywhere like fog and Bruce Willis-baby finds Samuel L Jackson-baby lying on the ground, and he’s wounded (audience is like “that’s even MORE sad because he’s a baby!!! I’m going to cry! I’m crying!”).
So Samuel L Jackson-baby is all like coughing blood everywhere and Bruce Willis-baby is like “I’ll take care of your mother for you” (Tragic Irony!).
So then Bruce Willis-baby turns to the other babies and they’re like “all the aliens are dead” and he gives this rousing speech about how they’ve made sacrifices, but they’ve done a good thing and now they can just go back to being normal babies
Then Bruce Willis-baby goes back home, and the dog who was barking at him from before kneels before him instead (Dogs have a heightened sense, so it would make sense that they know he did a good thing and killed a bunch of aliens).
Then he puts all his equipment up in its secret compartments and when it’s all hidden, he crawls back onto his mom on the couch.
She wakes up and she’s like “oh, I must have dozed off. I hope I didn’t miss anything exciting” and Bruce Willis-baby winks at the camera and we roll the credits on a job well-done!!! (Also, I think we should get a tie-in with Burger King and Mattel to do some promotions and make toys and stuff. Kids LOVE toys. Trust me on this. Especially from movies!!!)
Man Still Impersonating Twilight Character
AUSTIN, TX- It’s 10:30 PM and Jeremy Beechcomb is leaning on a tree in the slightly wooded area across the street from Austin Public High School. He will very soon shift which leg he’s standing on and continue to make pout-faces for the next four and a half hours. He’s had the same nightly ritual for months now, beginning on November 12th, which he refers to as “The Day After Twilight Released In Theaters.”
“I show up every night because it’s going to happen. I’m going to fall in love with a high school girl who wants to have more dark mystery in her life, and this is the only way for me to do it. It’s like destiny. Like if I’ve already been alive for a hundred years or so and now it’s time to finally settle down, or at least fool around behind one of these trees,” Jeremy states sulkily.
For months now, Mr. Beechcomb, 32, has been showing up to the same general area each night at 9pm and staying until 3am. When asked what he does to pass the time, Mr. Beechcomb replies “Brood and wait. Mostly brood, though.” When pressed for specifics, Mr Beechcomb replies that his brooding is “angst-ridden, but confident.”
He adds: “I have a lot of inner pain, so I can relate to high-schoolers, but I can also help them with their troubles, because I’m older and wiser. Like a vampire. Like Edward, who is a vampire.”
Mr. Beechcomb is referring to one of the main characters in the novel, and subsequent movie “Twilight.” The storyline in the book and movie highlights a romantic relationship between a human female named Isabella or “Bella” and a vampire named Edward, whom Mr. Beechcomb impersonates on a nightly basis.
“I got everything just right. Every article of clothing I’m wearing was stolen from the actual wardrobe by a good friend of mine who was a grip for the movie. It’s 100% authentic,” Mr. Beechcomb states proudly.
In a house a few blocks north we visited the Hastips, among the family, Allison Hastip, who attends Austin Public High School. Upon being asked to “please leave” because “it’s 10:30 at night” by Allison’s mother Susan Hastip; Allison made a shifty eye movement to us, indicating her agreement to meet behind the house in ten minutes.
“Yeah, all the girls at school know about him. Twilight was ok, I guess, but Jeremy’s just some creepy loser who puts shiny stuff on his skin and is like an obsessive stalker or whatever. And twilight came out months ago. It’s absolutely NOT cool now,” Allison reports factually.
When asked about his shimmery skin, Jeremy replies “I put on a special paste that I make myself. It’s a secret combination of eggs, sugar, and glass.”
It’s unclear what will result from Jeremy’s efforts in the following months, but in the extremely short term, he will most likely be picked up the authorities, as it appears that someone has given his name to Allison’s mother, who had this to say to us: “Get out of my backyard and away from my daughter! I’m calling the Police! What’s your name you creep!?”
Jon Clinkenbeard’s Politics
I am extremely political. I believe that Americans should get the things that they want.
I support health. All Americans have a right to health. Sometimes people may not be able to afford health. Those people aren’t Americans.
It’s our job as Americans to help them; maybe even give them some of our health.
Doctors are good. Hospitals are good. I think we can all agree that they are important to health. American health. Your health.
What about medicines?
Medicines have a long history of health.
Healths and medicines are like peanut and butter.
I support medicines.
I want Americans to have plenty of healths.
I also believe in other issues that are important.
Immigration.
Immigration is about people.
People who are immigrating, and people who live in the cities the people who are immigrating are immigrating to.
I will say firmly right now that I support people.
People are the key to our economy.
That means our economy is like the lock.
We have to open up our economy and take the goodies inside.
What if the goodies are treasures like diamonds and golds?
Do we want to be stuck without an economy?
I can relate to you, because I know I want an economy.
Like you, I believe the economy is important.
My opponent slings mud in the form of words; mud-words.
Well let me just tell you that he went to college.
People in college do drugs and sleep around.
People in college are irresponsible and drink too much.
Do you really want an alcoholic druggie gigolo in the white house?
I don’t.
My children don’t either.
Children are precious.
Like diamonds.
But children are also soft.
Children are soft diamonds.
Children and future.
Peanut and butter.
We must care for our children. We must teach them that they go with future.
They must grow up.
We must be firm about this.
We cannot let our children not grow up without future.
What kind of world has no children and no future?
Not a world I want to live in.
Not a world for my children.
I am a fan of the tiny people that we call children.
Foreign relations are important.
America doesn’t live in the world alone.
We have to cooperate with foreigns.
The world is large, but getting smaller.
Technology, foreigns, world.
They all must be friends to share peace.
Some foreigns aren’t friends.
They must be dealt with as enemies.
We will use our other friends: technology and world, to form a club where our enemies are not allowed until they become our friends.
Then, and only then, will foreigns, technology, world, and America have friendship.
Friendship is important.
I am pro-friendship.
Oil and drilling.
This issue confused people.
Here’s why: Oil is good. Drilling is bad.
We must drill to have oil.
This is a classic case of doing something bad to get something good.
I love oil.
I use it in my car to make it go.
I go to work every day with the power of oil.
I am an American.
I bet some of you use oil in your cars too.
We’re alike, you and I.
People who hate oil say that we can use green instead.
I say, why not make oil green?
Why throw all the oil away, when it’s still perfectly good?
If we make oil green, everyone will be happy.
I am for making people happy.
I say go green with oil!
People are talking a lot about gay.
They say gay marriage and gay rights.
I hear them.
Other people say straight.
They say straight marriage and straight god.
I listen.
I am a listener who hears both sides when people talk.
I support listening.
It is important to hear when people are talking.
I can promise that I am a listener who truly hears.
So when you go to the voting, remember:
Jon Clinkenbeard supports health and medicines.
Jon Clinkenbeard firmly supports people and friendships.
Jon Clinkenbeard believes the economy is important.
My opponent is an alcoholic drugged-out liar with STDs.
Who do you want to be president of America?
You want Jon Clinkenbeard to be president of America.
Teeth and Money
I’ve got plum between my teeth. I always have something between my teeth. That’s the trouble with having large teeth.
One of the troubles anyway; I also have a tendency to bite things.
Like people.
All of my friends know this, because at one time or another, I’ve bitten them. And believe me, they weren’t expecting it. No one’s every retaliated in a mean way, though. And that doesn’t mean I wait until I’m really good friends with them before I bite them.
I just bite whenever I feel like biting.
My friends just don’t retaliate because they’re good people and they know my intentions are pure.
I can’t help it. Well, I can, but I choose not to.
Which leads to me biting total strangers.
I was actually recognized by a girl in a bar a few years ago for biting her and I didn’t even remember doing it.
Not until she explained the whole story, and jogged my memory.
“It was your first day working in the airport, and you bit me, and I didn’t even know you, and that was so weird and hilarious and what are you up to now? (glug, glug, flirty eyes)”
You try biting someone your first day on the job in an international airport and see what happens.
I did, and it was great.
This girl was a bartender, who was very very cute.
I didn’t rationalize it that way though.
Something deep in my mind just knew she wouldn’t mind being bitten, and that urge came a’ knockin’, so I did it.
Yes, I had bitten this woman, who I didn’t know then, and still don’t.
As I said, it had even proved to be a conversation starter a year and a half later, and believe you me, if I hadn’t been dating someone at the time I ran back into her, I would have gotten to know her a lot better.
She would have had a lot more bite marks if you know what I’m saying. I think you do. Yeah, you do.
You might think all this biting makes my mouth a filthy filthy place.
Well it does, and not just biting strangers and friends; I also put money in my mouth. I don’t do it as much as I used to, but for a good while, I did it on a daily basis.
It tastes interesting. Not great, but not bad.
It also freaks people out, which I don’t understand.
Who doesn’t like the taste of metal? Who’s never tried that even once in their life?
Metal is kind of like bubble gum; great to taste and chew around on, but if you swallow a lot of it, it’s going to be really gross and probably horrible for you.
Paper money is great too.
It’s such a combination of flavours: ink, paper, the hands/wallets/pockets of a thousand different people, and whatever they coat it with to make it shiny.
If you think that’s disgusting and you consider money filthy, work in a restaurant for a few months and see if you ever want to eat out again. Germs are EVERYWHERE.
At least coins sit in your car, boiling in the sun.
You think germs thrive and make little germ cities on the surface of a 125-degree copper penny?
That’s like humans deciding the surface of the planet Mercury is good for a weekend beach trip.
They’re more likely to multiply and spread out on the rim of your “brand new” paper coffee cup, as it sits there in its little cupstack in Starbucks, where the temperature and humidity are perfect 24/7.
If you think about this stuff long enough, you’ll want to disinfect everything, which sounds great, unless you know that disinfectants only kill 99.99% of the germs.
Disinfectants only kill the weak germs.
Disinfectants don’t even touch the 0.01% bodybuilder germs; which means the bodybuilder germs are the only germs left.
So they all have germ-sex with each other and make nothing but bodybuilder germ babies. BAM! 50 years later, humans are fucked because germs can all lift 100 times their own weight up over their heads, and all humans can do is spray an ineffective mist at the ULTRAGERMS™ and cower together in their plastic biosuits.
Our best hope for the future might be for you to put money in your mouth on a daily basis and toughen your immune system up like a little organized crime family.
“Welcome to Jon’s Body. Germ and crime free* since 1993.”
Just to reiterate, I don’t put money in my mouth to build my immune system; I do it because I like the taste. The immune-system-building is just a good “not-crazy” reason to put money in your mouth if you want to do it, but also care what other people think.
I think I’ve gotten way off-topic here.
In summary: my big teeth usually cause a lot of trouble for me, but sometimes they lead to pretty girls thinking I’m awesome. And germs are fucking scary, but if you put enough of them in your mouth, your body will build a white blood cell mafia, which will proceed to wipe out the bodybuilder germs for not paying their protection money.
This was a good blog.
2 Britni, From Cassi
I ❤ U!
Omg! This class is so boring! I hate algabra! Y do we even have 2 know this, right?
Did u see Derek this morning? SO cute!!!!!
I wish I was a Juneyur so I could ask him out.
Do u think he’d date a softmore? Prolly not.
Btw, my boobs r totes getting biggur. I just tried on my favorite sweater, and it totes doesn’t fit!!!!!! Can u believe that? SRSLY!!!!
So we HAVE 2 go find me a new fav sweater so I can b all like “So Derek, will you help me study math or whatever?”
What r u doing this weekend????
Tiffani’s mom is out of town, so she’s throwing a party with all of her skank friends. She asked me and asked me 2 ask u if u wanted 2 cum.
It’s gonna b stupid, but I know Derek will b there, so like I HAVE 2 go.
Which means we HAVE 2 go shopping for sweaters tonite OR ELSE!!!
I forgot my Bioligy homework 2, did u do it? I need 2 copy.
Rite me back!!!!
Luv Cassi XOXOXOX
Brandy’s Head
Brandy had a fat head.
Most people didn’t notice right away.
At first, she just looked closer.
All the time.
For no reason.
But everyone figured it out eventually.
She wasn’t closer all the time.
Her head was just fat.
It wasn’t an ugly head by any means.
On the contrary; Brandy was very pretty.
And with so much surface to cover, that just meant she had more pretty than the next girl. If say, someone was very plain-jane and had a fat head, that would be a lot of plain.
And I suppose if someone was ugly and had a fat head, most people would rudely refer to them as “that ugly person with the fat head.”
The fatness of her head didn’t magnify her beauty, but it did magnify her personality.
So I suppose it magnified her inner beauty if you want to get specific about subjective intangibles. If you do, that’s your business and I’m sure you have a good reason.
I honestly don’t know why it matters to you. Brandy’s beauty isn’t the point of the story, or else I would have started with “Brandy was a beautiful girl” and not “Brandy had a fat head.” If you look above, you can clearly see the story started with “Brandy had a fat head.”
Moving on.
Brandy didn’t pay much attention to her big fat head, and neither did most of her friends after a while, but she was noticed.
She was noticed by me in a coffee shop.
I didn’t make friends with her.
I never got to the point where, when I thought the name “Brandy” I thought “generous” or “hippie” or “we made out that one time, but things are still cool.”
I stayed stuck thinking “Brandy” = “fatheaded girl.”
She was pretty.
I think I mentioned that.
It’s my opinion anyway.
You are probably trying to picture how a girl with a fat head could possibly be pretty.
Mostly because I used the word “fat” to describe a part of the body notorious for having very little fat, compared to the gut, or thighs.
That would mean that if she had a fat head, it must be really really gross.
Her head isn’t really that fat, it’s just a bit larger than-who am I kidding? It’s fat. It’s a fat head. It was an accurate way to describe it, and I don’t apologize for your lack of imagination.
It wouldn’t be so very fat-looking if she didn’t also have thick curly hair.
I’ve studied facial/hair relations and I’ve noticed that usually beauty comes from them offsetting each other.
If you have a long narrow face, having your hair bounce out on the sides makes you look infinitely more beautiful than having long straight hair to match your long vampyre face.
So to summarize: Brandy had fat hair on all sides of her fat head.
You might think that such a thick mane with such a large head, must have made her look a bit like a female lion.
Well you’re forgetting that it’s the male lions who wear the dreadlocks.
Brandy was a lesbian.
Well not completely, I mean, she wasn’t committing one way or another, and she was still young enough to experiment, so it didn’t really matter anyway, but she hated Jeremy so much for cheating on her because he’s such a jerk, and all men are jerks, and she should just become a lesbian, right?
As you can probably guess, Brandy had a lot to learn.
And a lot to retain, mind you.
She was already good at that, because of her fat head.
She sat at the coffee shop drinking her Topico water, which is always good if there’s nothing more exciting to drink than bubbly tap water.
She chattered with her friends, probably talking about how dark and mysterious and cool I was, sitting on my laptop in the corner of the room.
I paid her no mind, save the occasional glance to be sure she wasn’t moving closer, which she seemed to be, but never was.
Then, as slowly as a dying relationship, she and her friends walked out of the coffee shop and out of my life.
As she left, I noticed that her ankles were the smallest I’d ever seen…
To My Six-Year-Old Son
How did you get in here?
I thought I locked that door.
No, Daddy does love you; he just needs special video game alone time.
…
So he won’t go crazy.
You can stay in here if you promise to be quiet.
Hey look at me, buddy.
Promise?
…
Do you promise to be quiet?
Ok then.
…
…
…
…
That’s a laser gun. Like in cartoons.
…
…
That man isn’t hurt, he’s an alien. Aliens don’t have feelings.
…
That’s a force-field; Daddy has to blow that up to get into the base.
…
No, they’re all just sleeping.
You promised me you’d be quiet.
…
…
What?
…
Ha-ha! You should ask Mommy that.
…
Because mommies know the answer. Daddies don’t know where babies come from because mommies keep it a secret.
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Yes, Mommy keeps it a secret.
I think it involves a pterodactyl. You should ask her about that.
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It’s a dinosaur that flies. I gave you that big book of dinosaurs; don’t you ever look at that?
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Yes, you came from an egg, like the dinosaurs.
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No, breakfast eggs are different.
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No, those are chicken babies.
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Because people babies don’t get eaten; people babies grow up to ask their daddies all kinds of questions.
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Like the questions you’re asking me.
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The ones you’ve been asking me.
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Like that one, just there.
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Of course I love you.
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I love you and your mommy equally.
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I love you too.
Do you love me or mommy more?
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Really?
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Why?
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Well then I guess I love mommy more too.
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Well you made such a convincing case for her; I think I actually do love her a little more than you now.
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Because mommy and I can always make another baby if you don’t clean your room.
We can even give him your name and all your toys, so no one will know you’re gone.
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Then you’d better be good, so we don’t have to make a better baby to replace you.
That sounds like mommy’s home, why don’t you go ask her about pterodactyls and where babies come from?
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Hi honey, how was work-
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I just told him to ask you-
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Now look, don’t get upset, I was just kid-
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He’s fine! Why are you yelling?
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He’s not crying!
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Well he wasn’t crying a minute ago, he only cries when you’re around!
He knows you’ll give him whatever he wants.
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No. You’re being manipulated. He doesn’t care about what I said; he just wants you to baby him!
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Yeah, great, take him out for ice cream to cheer him up; I’m sure B.F. Skinner would have a little something to say about that.
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Fine then!
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I hope they both drop their stupid ice creams.
Jerks.
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Jon Clinkenbeard Is Your Friend 